


Single Ladies

by PaintingthePeoniesRed



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, I am sorry not sorry, M/M, anyway, dont say i didnt warn you, it might exit your nose, please do not drink anything while reading this, utter crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintingthePeoniesRed/pseuds/PaintingthePeoniesRed
Summary: Tyelpe got drunk, once again. But this time, he enlisted the help of one Finrod Felagund and one Glorfindel to aid him in his....unique....coping methods post-breakup in the Halls of Mandos.If Annatar liked it, then he should've put a ring on it....
Relationships: Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Ecthelion of the Fountain/Glorfindel
Comments: 22
Kudos: 43
Collections: Drunk Tyelpe





	Single Ladies

All is quiet in the Halls of Mandos.

Well, as quiet as it usually is. Or, perhaps a little more, given the sudden disappearance of three of the loudest Elves there.

Then...

A voice rings out.

“ALL THE SINGLE LADIES!”

A stiletto-heeled foot followed by a fishnet-laced leg makes its entrance into the light, followed by the other, and then two arms extend upwards— no, one upwards, the other goes up then bends back to hold a microphone to the singer’s mouth. He’s dressed scantily and all in black, with his hair in a high ponytail.

Tyelperinquar takes the stage.

Upon the next line— “ _ALL THE SINGLE LADIES~ ”_ — two more Elves follow suit in similar outfits, both blond, though the colors of their outfits are a dark red. “ALL THE SINGLE LADIES! _ALL THE SINGLE LADIES!”_ The chorus bounces back between them as they walk to the center towards Tyelpe, tossing their hair over their shoulders, and take their places to either side of him. Their hips swing, heels stamp, and though it’s a _little_ off-sync from the alcohol’s effect, on the whole the presentation is... unforgettable, to say the least.

Who knew Finrod and Glorfindel could dance like this?

The dance changes. Tyelpe points out in front of him, hips still swinging, head tilted up in a proud way. “Up in the club,”

“ _Club,”_ echo the other two,

“Just broke up,”

_“Up,”_

“Doin’ my own little thing~ ”

Elves had now started to stare. Wine was the clear cause of this incident — why else would Tyelpe ever behave this way? Besides, he was a notorious lightweight — and Finrod... well, Finrod perhaps would have taken a _little_ persuading, but Glorfindel on the other hand...! Glorfindel’s movements are impeccable, precise, so there is no way he, too, could be drunk. More often than not, he stares across the courtyard... right into the eyes of Ecthelion, who stands frozen, a brilliant shade of scarlet dusted across his face and the tips of his ears.

The blond Elf on stage smirks and upon the next hip-swing, he smacks his own ass, then blows him a kiss.

Ecthelion groans... _(for what reason exactly, however, is up to debate)._

From the other side of the courtyard, Maglor plugs his ears, and turns in his chair to face the stage and learn who is causing this _infernal_ racket— and his jaw drops.

Maedhros purses his lips and takes a _deep_ breath.

Caranthir leans on the table and buries his head in his hands, dying inside (or, at least, dies a little more at the sight of the singer than he had already died from the sound of the music), and Amrod and Amras snort with laughter.

“Brother... is that your son...?”

Curufin barely registers who even asked that — he doesn’t care — he whirls around, and pales.

It is only Celegorm who is not rendered speechless and in shock (so likely it was he who called attention to the dancing Elf earlier). He leaps from his chair, nearly tripping over himself in the process, and runs to the stage. “HAHA! TYELPE, WONDERFUL!” He starts laughing and clapping his hands to the beat, whistling and cheering, and... dances, swinging his hips, hands above his head. It is ridiculous, though none care to stop him. He’s just being a supportive uncle!

Finrod glares at him, then rolls his eyes, and keeps going.

In all honesty, Glorfindel barely notices him at all — his eyes are still on Ecthelion, who is now sitting with his legs crossed and arms folded awkwardly in his lap as if to hide something there, face as red as ever and now shiny with a thin layer of sweat.

Curufin nearly knocks Celegorm over with the force of the impact when he runs into him, trying to get him to stop.

“Quit it!”

“I’m being suppor—”

_“Stop embarrassing me! It is bad enough my son is up there, Tyelkormo!”_

“Have a little fun, come on—”

“NO!”

“SHHHHHHHHHH!”

Tyelpe commands attention to himself again with a wave of his arm above his head. “’CAUSE IF YOU LIKE IT THEN YOU SHOULDA PUT A RING ON IT! _IF YOU LIKE IT THEN YOU SHOULDA PUT A RING ON IT!_ ” His voice changes. It has a raw energy to it now, he truly means what he says, and sings to the horizon in the East where a Dark Lord wanders, alone. “DON’T BE MAD ONCE YOU LIE N’THEN I DON’T WANT IT, _IF YOU LIKED IT, THEN YOU SHOULDA PUT A RING ON IT!”_

“WHOA OH OHHH, OH-OH-OHHH, OH-OH-OHHH, OH-OH OHHH!” Glorfindel and Finrod sing behind him. Glorfindel commands attention the next line, bending over and snapping up with a hair-toss. One leg stays locked, the other bent forwards, and as he raises his torso to stand up his legs switch, alternating locked to bent, and is he _loving_ this.

 _“Don’t treat me like your books on your shelf, I’m not that kind of Elf, your love is what I prefer, what I deserve! Here’s a Maia that makes me then takes me and delivers me to a destiny, to infinity and beyond!”_ Tyelpe stops dancing, save for a subtler, fluid swinging of his hips. Instead, all eyes are on his face. He reaches for the distance, fingers extended, an almost pained expression on his face. _“Pull me into your arms, say I’m the one you want! Annatar, you’ll be alone, and like a ghost I’ll be gone...!”_

And just like that... the moment is over.

He steps back, then squats, legs spread, one hand on one knee and the other still holding his microphone. Behind him, Glorfindel and Finrod do the same.

“IF YOU LIKED IT, THEN YOU SHOULDA PUT A RING ON IT,” they all sing, bouncing up and down, whipping their hair and standing back up, swinging their hips once more. Their pace speeds up, they kick their netted legs and twist and wave and stamp and jump and kick again, hips never still all through the chorus, until the very end.

_“IF YOU LIKED IT, THEN YOU SHOULDA PUT A RING ON IT!_

_IF YOU LIKED IT, THEN YOU SHOULDA PUT A RING ON IT!”_

Tyelpe spins on his heel, then stamps, feet spread. Finrod stands on his left, one leg locked, the other bent, ass out, back arched, head tilted back with his microphone held above it. Glorfindel mirrors him on Tyelpe’s other side. Tyelpe’s left hand shoots up into the air above his head, fingers spread, the back of his palm to the audience, as if to say, _look, my hand is bare._

**_“WHOA-OH-OH!”_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Mairon, from Barad-dur: I TRIED TO!!!
> 
> I will not apologize.


End file.
